Poetry This material is copyrighted |
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| Ghost Writer The sky turns briefly to an odd shade of yellow. On the horizon, a more familiar shade of grey. Through the sliding doors I see a small bird taking shelter under the grapevine draped balcony. A lightning strike is followed by a long roll of thunder. The writer is awed by the energetic communication of the one Creator. "Here I am", He says, "and I love you" "I am watering your roses." "I am", he says as peaceful wonder grabs hold. An ember flies off the cigarette burning for a nanosecond then falling as ash to the tray. Was it a star in some near, yet distant, newly extinct solar system? The vibration of the thunder shakes the house- ghost writing by means of inspiration the previous thought. The sky is now gray but the thunder continues to effect the wood floor beneath my feet. Did the Ghost writer take a mystical yellowish form for a brief moment in time? Is He now inspiring someone else? I will miss Him though He's ever-present. |
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